"Reporting, Vice Admiral."
"A total of 265 children have all been escorted back to their homes."
"All the medicine and supplies we brought have been distributed as well. The additional supplies you previously ordered us to procure have also been assembled and are on their way."
At a street corner near the border, Momonga gave a military salute and reported with a solemn expression.
"Good work."
Noah was busy and did not have time to look up, merely replying offhandedly.
In the middle of winter, he wore only a white undershirt as he hammered away at the little house before him. His body was covered in black soot stains mixed with sweat, leaving him looking utterly disheveled. Ignoring his face, he was no different from an ordinary bricklayer.
The godlike figure who had single-handedly forced back an army of hundreds of thousands last night seemed like an entirely different person.
Momonga was about to step forward and lend a hand, but Noah waved him off. He nailed the last plank beside the window frame into place, wiped away his sweat, and rose with a long breath.
"That takes care of it."
Noah clapped his hands, smiling as he picked up the coat hanging nearby and draped it over his shoulder. "Come on. Let's take a look around the city and see if there's anywhere else that needs help."
"Yes, Vice Admiral."
Momonga nodded instinctively and hurried after him.
"Thank you, Navy uncle!"
A childish voice suddenly rang out behind them. Momonga turned around and saw only an eight- or nine-year-old girl waving goodbye in their direction.
Only after Noah smiled and waved back at her did the little girl return to the side of the cabin. She skipped around her repaired home, looking it over from every angle, her pale